


Somewhere Far Away

by scorpia



Series: Where It All Began [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe, Angst, Closure!YAY!, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Feels, Feels, Flashbacks, Fluff, Graduation, I just apologize in general, I thought this would be a whole lot shorter than it turned out to be, M/M, Medical School, Military, POV Derek, Pining, Sequels!YAY!, Slower build, Stilinski Family Feels, Well graduating derek, doctor!derek, so close enough, soldier!Stiles, sorry about that, sorry about that too, sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 20:45:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11066796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpia/pseuds/scorpia
Summary: Advanced Individual Training had been torture. At least it was to Derek, who had to spend the four months without Stiles moping around at his family house before going back to school to mope there. Only moping there was worse, because there he had to study, too. They weren’t completely isolated from one another, of course, but that didn’t stop it from hurting every time Derek woke up alone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again!
> 
> Sorry this sequel took so long, it was supposed to only be about half this length, but then I got carried away. If you haven't read the first story (Where It All Began), you may want to :D
> 
> Once again I tried to make all info regarding the military and medical school as accurate as I could, but any mistakes on that part are my own and I apologize. *NOTE* I do reference real military bases in this story and my depiction of them is fictional as I do not actually have any idea as to what would go on in a military base. No offense is meant in any way to the places mentioned.
> 
> Title taken from Bruno Mars' "Talking to the Moon".
> 
> Beta'd by my bestie!
> 
> Please enjoy!

There was a crash, the sound of crunching metal, a bright light, and Derek jerked up. His mouth was open to scream but the sound died in his throat; he was grateful for that when his eyes opened and he saw where he was.

_My bedroom_ , he thought. Light was filtering in between the shades on his window. _Just a dream,_ he told himself, forcing his breathing to a steadier pace. He used his sheets to wipe sweat from his brow and took a deep breath to gather himself together.

This wasn’t his first nightmare in recent years. Not by far. And it definitely wasn’t the first time his dreams had centered on a particular topic. He would almost routinely wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and just barely stopping himself before he could scream Stiles’ name. Occasionally he didn’t stop himself in time, and had to explain to whoever came to help that there was nothing actually wrong.

But, after two years, he’d grown used to the terrible feeling the nightmares left in his gut, and he had learned that he could shake them off if he refused to dwell on them. He always remembered the dreams vividly, but, for his own sanity, he stifled them as much as he could.

Derek rolled out of bed determined to make the day positive. It probably helped that he could smell pancakes and coffee wafting through the house. He reminded himself that they got to see John today. It always felt good seeing his boyfriend’s father. It made Stiles seem a little closer to home.

Derek made his way through his childhood home and into the kitchen, where people were already gathered for the start of the day. It wasn’t that he necessarily missed his apartment back at school, but at least he had quiet time in the mornings to properly wake up. (And his bed there was bigger than a full-size. He was a tall guy, ok? He needed his space.) With his graduation from medical school coming, however, he and his roommate had both decided to go home to spend the weekend with their families before coming back to pack up the rest of their stuff.

That was a few days ago. Tomorrow, he would have the diploma in his hand and be heading into his residency in as early as a few weeks.

“Good morning!” Cora shouted at him from the table.

Derek grunted at her as he went for the coffee machine, grabbing his usual mug down from the rack. She was always sinfully cheery before noon. Derek always just assumed that came with the whole “being the youngest and therefore the most annoying” role. Beside her sat Isaac, her boyfriend of now five months. The fact that Derek wasn’t surprise to see him here before 10 a.m. spoke volumes of their relationship.

“I hope you’re hungry,” Derek’s father said, pushing his chair at the head of the table back and coming to get what Derek expected must be his second or third cup of coffee. He gestured to the stove top and the plates filled with pancakes.

“But don’t eat too much! There’s supposed to be a ton of food at the barbecue today,” Cora reminded him.

“It’s not going to be anything huge,” Derek contested. “John promised a relaxing day.”

“Still, it’d be rude to show up already full,” Cora scolded.

Derek waved his hand at her, both a confirmation and a dismissal. Their father rolled his eyes fondly at his two youngest children just as their mother walked into the room.

“Good morning, kids. Eric, don’t forget we’re bringing the fruit salad today. It’s in the refrigerator,” she said as her phone began to ring on the counter.

“Yes, dear,” his father said as he picked up her phone and handed it to her. “It’s John,” he added.

Derek’s mother picked up the phone and left the room quickly, grabbing some other paperwork off the counter as she went. Derek quirked an eyebrow at his father, who raised one in return.

“He’s probably just calling to make sure I don’t forget the fruit salad, either,” he said in a nonchalant tone, sipping his coffee.

Derek rolled his eyes and stacked a few pancakes on his plate, going over to sit next to Isaac at the table and greeting him with a calm, “Hey, Isaac.”

“Hey, Derek. Are you excited for today? It is all for you,” he said amiably.

Derek chuckled. “Yeah it should be fun. What about you? It’s been a while since you’ve seen the sheriff.”

In truth it’d only been about three weeks for Isaac, and two weeks for Derek, since no one in his family was capable of keeping away from John Stilinski for more than a few days before they started to miss him. His sisters already considered him their second father and, as such, Cora had been eager to have him and Isaac meet after they’d started dating, wanting his approval almost as much as their own father’s.

Isaac had taken to the sheriff immediately. The son of a drunk, Isaac found the warm and accepting natures of both John Stilinski and Eric Hale comforting. As a result, he spent more and more time with the two merging families, becoming part of the fold with each passing day. The only person he had yet to meet was Stiles.

“Actually, yeah,” Isaac answered. “The sheriff’s a really nice guy. He makes a mean burger and he’s almost unbeatable at chess.”

Derek smiled into his coffee. “Yeah, Stiles is like that too. I grew up playing chess with Dad and Mom and even I’m no match for him. He’s got quite the mind.”

Isaac grinned at Derek’s fond expression: it was a look he only ever saw on Derek’s face when discussing his other half. Isaac didn’t need anything else to know that Derek truthfully was in love with a man he’d spent so little time with in person.

“Yeah? Well, your dad and the sheriff agreed to teach me, so maybe Stiles and I can go a round or two the next time he’s back in town?”

Derek inhaled slowly just at the thought of Stiles being back, hanging out with family like he’d never left. “I’m sure he’d love that.”

Derek let the breath out and munched on a forkful of chocolate chip pancakes, trying not to let his mind wander to places it had so many times before. But the thoughts were still so fresh, and he couldn’t help himself.

Advanced Individual Training had been torture. At least it was to Derek, who had to spend the four months without Stiles moping around at his family house before going back to school to mope there. Only moping there was worse, because there he had to study, too. They weren’t completely isolated from one another, of course, but that didn’t stop it from hurting every time Derek woke up alone.

Sending letters to Fort Jackson helped, though, _and_ it had the added effect of making Derek feel like a teenage girl with a scandalous love affair: writing secret love letters to one another from miles and miles away. Phone calls were far more precious, however, because Derek could _hear_ Stiles on the other end of that line and _know_ that he was there and that he was safe.

The phone calls would have been a lot more helpful though, if Stiles had been allowed more than two the entire time he had been away.

Twelve days. That was how long Derek and Stiles had gotten to be together after Stiles finished with his Advanced Individual Training and came back home. Quite honestly, it had been the best time of Derek’s life.

Derek smiled to himself, trying to hide it with another sip of coffee, just thinking about it.

If he had thought that spending a week with Stiles in the romanticized bubble that was Myrtle Beach was incredible, then having a tangible relationship with Stiles when they just went about their everyday lives was heaven. They had spent every single one of those twelve days together – Derek may have skipped a class here or there – and every time that they saw one another it had been an exhale of relief from their hearts.

Even after Stiles had to report back to his unit, it had all still been ok. The worry Derek was certain he would have had been lessened significantly when he found out Stiles’ base was located in Texas. It wasn’t too far away, and Derek hadn’t felt the need to worry about him every day because he wasn’t in any immediate danger while he was there. Texas was a huge pro-Army state, so Stiles would be taken care of no matter what, and that knowledge had done wonders for Derek’s ability to sleep at night.

Stiles had even visited once, seven months after he left. Derek had met him at the airport and squeezed him so tightly that Stiles was practically wheezing for breath. He hadn’t complained though. Stiles had missed him just as much and hadn’t wanted to let go of Derek’s hand for anything, not even when he hugged his father. That would have been an awkward situation, but the men were all too happy to care.

He’d only gotten six days with them, not even one full week, but it was a solace that Derek desperately needed after being deprived of Stiles for so long. And, while he still missed Stiles with every trembling fiber of his being, he hadn’t worried so much about his safety when Stiles got back on the plane to head to Fort Sam Houston.

But that had only lasted for the first year of Stiles’ deployment. One year. Well, eleven months to be exact. Four months after Stiles’ visit and then Stiles had called Derek one day saying his unit was being deployed.

_“Deployed? Wait, where to? Can they just move you like that?”_

_“It’s the military, Derek, they can do anything they want.”_

_“Well, where are you going?”_

_The pause on the other end of the line hadn’t been encouraging. “. . . That’s the hard part, Derek. They’re sending me to Kuwait.”_

_Derek’s heart had dropped so far into his stomach he had been sure it was no longer even in his body._

_“Derek? You still there, babe? Look, I only get another few minutes on the phone. I know this isn’t exactly ideal, but don’t worry. And I know you are because I can practically feel your eyebrows doing that furrowing thing. But this changes nothing: I’ll still be just a phone call away; we’ll still be able to send and receive mail; and, most importantly, I still love you more than anything, okay?”_

_“Okay,” Derek had squeaked out, unable to say much else._

_Kuwait? The Kuwait that’s halfway across the world? No. No, this couldn’t be right. Derek must have heard that wrong. They couldn’t do this. They couldn’t! They couldn’t just swoop in and take Stiles._

_Even if Derek could have found his voice in that moment, he wasn’t sure he would have been able to form the words that described what he was feeling._

_Anger, for having Stiles taken even further away from him; confusion, at how this could all have happened so suddenly; disbelief, that Stiles was really going to be going overseas; and fear. Fear that Stiles was leaving him. Fear that he would never see him again. Fear that something would happen to him over there. Fear that Derek wasn’t going to be able to protect Stiles if he needed it, wouldn’t be there with him, just to be by his side. Such an overwhelming fear that he didn’t think he could ever properly translate it to another human being._

_His hand had gripped the phone tighter and the one by his side had clenched into a fist, trying to tamper down on the sudden, all-consuming desire he had to reach out and touch Stiles, to reassure himself that Stiles was okay. But he couldn’t. Even if he had reached out, Stiles wouldn’t have been there to touch, because he’d already been states away, and, soon after, he would be even farther._

_Derek had cleared his throat, remembered that these phone calls were in fact short and that they hadn’t had much time left to talk._

_“I love you,” he had said firmly. If nothing else mattered, that did. Stiles had all his love, and he had all of Stiles’, and they would thrive on that fact until they saw each other again._

_Stiles’ answering sigh had sounded somewhat relieved. “When I get there I’ll be able to call you and give you my new mailing address, ok?”_

_“Ok. I’ll tell your dad.”_

_“Bye, Derek.”_

Derek closed his eyes tight for a moment, his hand gripping the fork until his knuckles turned white. Thinking about that phone call still made his heart hurt in places he didn’t know he had. To distract himself from the thought of where Stiles was, of where he’s been for the past year, he reminded himself where he was instead: sitting at his kitchen table, eating breakfast with his family. Laura sleepily dragged herself into the kitchen and immediately over to the coffeepot as Isaac happily asked Derek a question about what he was planning on wearing underneath his cap and gown the next day. Derek gave a small grin and tried his best to answer in a clear voice.


	2. Chapter 2

The drive to the sheriff’s house was short and familiar, the way having been paved several times by Derek over the last two years of Stiles’ time in the Army. With such a limited form of active communication, Derek and Sheriff Stilinski wanted to be sure that neither one of them would detract from the other’s time with Stiles, so Derek would drive to the sheriff’s house on the days that Stiles called so that they could share his time. Derek and the sheriff (John, as he insisted Derek start calling him), got along rather well, and Derek found himself driving the thirty minutes between the family houses more and more often as the months of Stiles’ absence went on.

John even let Derek use his house as a makeshift library once when his apartment complex at school had a busted pipe and his family house was just too loud to study in. Derek had started at the dining room table, but found himself in Stiles’ old bedroom before long, studying at his desk while clutching one of Stiles’ old pillows to his chest. He knew it was pathetic. He didn’t care.

But it wasn’t just Derek that the sheriff adopted into his family. Once, when Derek knocked on the door, Laura answered it, telling him to “Get in, loser, we’re playing trivia. It’s guys versus girls and John and Dad have been losing terribly against me, Cora, and Mom without you here to help.”

That had been somewhat horrifying, but Derek had a warm feeling in his chest the rest of that night. Derek doubted that John knew, when his son started to date, he’d end up with not only another son in the family but two new daughters _and_ two new best friends as well.

But despite how happy Derek was that his family and John meshed so well, there was always this unspoken empty place, like someone had been cut out of the family photograph, and the blank space they left was noticeable to everyone in the room.

Derek sighed as they made the turn into the subdivision John lived in. Laura and Isaac were still chattering about the next Marvel movie that was scheduled to come out while Cora spent the ride flipping through every radio station three times. Before they knew it, they were parking in the street in front of the Stilinski residence.

Derek knocked when he stepped up to the house because he’s polite and was raised correctly. Unlike Laura, who scoffed at him and pushed past, opening the unlocked front door and walking straight through. Derek rolled his eyes but strode into the foyer after her with the rest of his family on his heels.

The Stilinski home had little bits and pieces about it that Derek missed over the last couple of weeks, like the warm colors of the walls, or the old furniture which was obviously well-loved and cozy. Hell, even the bad habit John had of keeping the TV on, displaying the news station from the time the sheriff woke up to the time he went to sleep. Derek missed it all.

His favorite things, though, were the family photos that covered most of the surfaces and walls. Stiles had told him once that, after his mother had passed, he took every picture of her down because they hurt too bad to look at. John hadn’t stopped him, apparently agreeing. Seeing those back up again, proudly displayed where everyone could see, it was a testament to how far the Stilinski men had come. Derek loved getting the chance to see how beautiful Stiles’ mother was, seeing her with her husband and son in the moments that meant the most to them.

The first picture he ever saw of her showed her and a toddler Stiles at a picnic, smiling wildly while messily eating watermelon. Derek had noted that it was from her that Stiles got his beautiful whiskey-colored eyes. He had choked up a bit then, and silently thanked her for helping to piece together all the little things that made Stiles the patient and loving man he was today.

Derek pulled his attention away from the photos on the wall and kept walking further into the house. John was in the kitchen, grabbing an armload of seasonings and spices out of the cabinets. When he saw the Hales, he put the spices on the counter and greeted them with a warm smile.

Laura and Cora didn’t hesitate to jump into his arms for a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and when they finally decided to give everyone else their turn, each member of the family got a hug, even Isaac. Derek went last, having been deemed the one to carry the bowl of fruit salad and having to put it on the counter first, but he opened his arms to John gratefully. John gave him an extra pat on the back before pulling away.

“It’s good to see everyone,” John commented. “Well, guys, Scott’s firing up the grill and Allison’s helping to set the patio table if anyone wants to join them.”

“Oh sure! Kids, grab the place settings for the table while your father and I help John get the food sorted,” Derek’s mom offered.

“Thanks, Talia,” John said, raising an eyebrow at the too-inconspicuous look on her face.

Derek grinned, knowing that was his mom’s way of unsubtly saying the parents needed to talk for a moment alone. He didn’t think much of it though as everyone but the parents walked outside, each grabbing some of the spices off the counter as they went. Scott, as promised, was standing in front of the grill, using his substitutes for expletives because he was having trouble lighting it.

Derek had met Scott after he returned home from Myrtle Beach. Stiles’ best friend was admittedly odd, always with a sort of blank look on his face and a dry sense of humor. Truthfully, he and Derek didn’t get on that well when they first met. Scott felt that he had a territorial claim over Stiles since they’d known each other from the time they were eight, and Derek wasn’t comfortable with anyone questioning his feelings for Stiles, even if he hadn’t known Stiles for long.

After some time, though, Derek came to realize something that made him change his opinion: he and Scott were relatively similar creatures. Their personalities were alike, and that was why they both loved and needed Stiles so much. He was their opposite, their foil, and he made them complete in more ways than one. Once he recognized that, Derek and Scott decided to make their peace.

Besides, anyone who loved Stiles as much as Scott clearly did was okay by Derek.

Derek gave Allison, Scott’s fiancée, a small smile and he and Scott gave one another their usual handshake and nod. Derek’s father, after having come outside from the “adult-talk” with John, instructed Scott on how to light the grill properly. Once they had it going, Isaac came up to Scott and they gave each other an extended bro-hug. It may have taken Scott and Derek a few months to get their acts together, but one look exchanged between Isaac and Scott and the two had clicked easily.

It was just past noon when everyone sat down at the patio to eat, but the conversations kept everyone at the table until well after three o’clock. From there the day went on pretty much how Derek expected it to. When John had promised Derek a relaxing day reserved for family and friends, he’d meant it.

After the food was cleared, there were plenty of things to keep everyone entertained. Allison, who normally spends her summers teaching fencing and archery, had brought one of the archery practice targets with a bow and arrow so people could take turns at using it. Cora took to that instantly, much to Derek and Laura’s dread, and was surprisingly good at it. Derek’s father was quick to start up a game of chess with Isaac – who didn’t stop asking everyone at the table until Eric Hale finally caved – and Laura was setting up two separate games of Cards Against Humanity and Uno at the dining room table.

Derek noticed that John kept checking his watch during the games, kept looking at his cellphone with a somewhat confused – or maybe it was concerned? – look on his face, but he figured it must be worry about leaving the sheriff’s station alone for the day, because everything around here was much too calm and happy to cause any stress.

It was during the second round of Uno, hours later, that Derek was getting up to grab a Coke from the fridge. Before he made it to the kitchen, however, something on the ever-running TV caught his attention. Derek had gotten used to the low thrum of the news station over time, been able to drown it out without difficulty, but the sudden way that the news anchor cut off his cohost was enough to make him take notice.

“Hold on, Rachel. We have some breaking news coming in. It appears that four days ago there was an attack on a military base in the Middle East . . . Yes, there was an attack on a base located in Kuwait. Mohammed Al-Ahmad Kuwait Naval Base is its name, known to the U.S. as Camp Patriot. It houses Kuwaiti Navy as well as military personnel from the U.S. No word on whether or not there are any casualties yet, but it seems that there are injuries,” The news anchor said.

“That’s terrible. I hope all the soldiers are ok, Tim,” his cohost replied.

“Me, too. More to come as the story develops and information comes in. Stay tuned, folks.”

The news cut to a commercial break, but Derek didn’t take his eyes away from the screen. He couldn’t if he tried because he couldn’t even feel his body. It was there only a second ago, standing in the living room, but now Derek couldn’t feel it. He knew everyone in the room was staring at him, but Derek didn’t notice any of them over the sudden pounding of his heart.

Mohammed Al-Ahmad Naval Base. He knew that name by heart. After Stiles had been deployed, he had called Derek from his new base in Kuwait. Derek can remember that conversation clearly.

_“It’s a Naval Base, Derek. I’m one of the only people wearing a green uniform in this place.”_

_“Naval Base? You’re in the Army, what are you doing there?”_

_“They needed people. It doesn’t really matter what branch of the military the base represents, if you’re needed, that’s where they send you. They’ve been having me work as an analyst a lot lately. I’ll probably be at Camp Patriot for the foreseeable future.”_

“What do we do? Do we call someone? What-what do we do?” Scott was asking, a hint of panic in his rising tone.

“Oh my God,” Cora whispered.

“John? How do we proceed from here?” Derek’s mother asked in a gentle but firm voice.

“Derek, are you ok?” a hand touched Derek’s shoulder and he jerked away from it, finally tearing his eyes away from the TV long enough to see Laura’s worried expression. He vaguely thought he could hear someone hyperventilating in the distance. It took Laura’s grounding touch to realize that that someone was him.

“I . . . um . . . I . . . Stiles,” was all Derek could muster up in between labored breaths. He looked from Laura to the rest of the faces at the table, settling on John. “ _Stiles_ ,” he repeated a bit more desperately, his eyebrows raising and his shoulders going tense.

The sheriff was staring down at the table with a look that meant he was thinking hard about something. He took a deep breath and nodded to himself, standing and walking to where Derek’s feet had pinned him to the floor. He put his hand on Derek’s shoulder, but Derek didn’t jerk away this time. Derek knew John loved Stiles with everything he had in him, if he wasn’t panicking, then everything must be ok, right? He could probably stop breathing so hard.

“If something had happened to Stiles, we probably would have heard something by now. The fact that we haven’t means he’s most likely fine,” John said.

It was an answer to everyone’s question, but he said it directly to Derek, trying to calm him before he did something drastic, like faint.

The “most likely” in John’s sentence was the one thing Derek didn’t want to hear. He didn’t want a qualifier. He wanted a direct, exact answer. He needed to know that Stiles _was_ okay, not that he was _most likely_ okay. The difference between those two meanings was something his heart honestly could not bear, especially not when Derek’s last phone call with Stiles had only been two weeks ago, when Stiles sounded so happy and bright and _alive_.

Oh, God. No. No. Stiles was fine. Derek chanted this to himself over and over. He was _fine_. He was _fine_. Nothing had happened to Stiles.

“Derek, I think you should sit down,” Allison suggested. Derek knew she was only five or six feet away from him, but his hearing didn’t seem to want to work properly, because she sounded much farther away than that.

“Son, we’re going to figure out what to do,” he father said reassuringly. “Tomorrow morning, we’re going to get on the phone with everyone we can think of and get some information, okay?”

Derek nodded, but it only made the room start to spin. His body needed to sit down, but that’s not what his mind needed. Right now, all his mind needed was the knowledge that Stiles was safe. He needed Stiles with him. At his side. In his arms.

Stiles. His Stiles. His boyfriend of over two years. Derek hadn’t gotten enough time with him. He needed more time with him! They’d only spent twenty-five days together in-person. That wasn’t nearly enough! They needed their entire lives together, just like they’d planned.

And they’ll have that, Derek tried to remind himself. John wasn’t panicking. That meant that Stiles was safe. He was alright. He was still going to come home and he and Derek would still spend the rest of their lives together. Everything was okay. Everything was okay because Stiles – Derek’s beautiful Stiles – was okay.

_He’s okay_ , Derek thought as someone pushed him down into a chair. _Stiles is going to be okay._


	3. Chapter 3

Derek blinked awake the next morning very slowly. He didn’t have any dreams last night, and he couldn’t stop the hatred he suddenly felt towards himself for that. Were all of his dreams some kind of sick premonition? Had his subconscious known something was going to happen all along? If it had, and Derek didn’t realize it, if he had done nothing about it all this time, then anything that happened to Stiles was his fault.

_Might_ have happened. Probably didn’t. John had said so last night and, after the initial panic attack had eventually died down, Derek could see that John was right. It was useless to jump to such severe conclusions without the right evidence, anyway, and evidence was one thing they didn’t have enough of yet.

The games had stopped after the news broke on the TV: everyone too invested to see what else the reporters could tell them to care about a card game. Unfortunately, what the new anchors could tell them hadn’t been much. A telephone call here, a rumor there. No interviews with people on the base or even an official report of any kind yet. They’d spent hours last night flipping to different news stations and scouring the internet, but nothing new had come up.

Derek took a few deep breaths. He felt off-center, like someone had taken his internal balance and thrown it right out the window. He needed to steady himself so he could face the day and find out more. His father had promised phone calls. That seemed like a good place to start.

Looking over at the clock, Derek had overslept already. If his parents started to make calls when they said they wanted to, they might even be done with them by now. Why had no one woken him up?

Derek tossed the covers back and swung his feet to the floor. He ambled out of his bedroom and headed downstairs. He could hear voices coming from the kitchen, but, upon focusing more clearly on what they were saying, he could tell they were talking about him. He wanted to get right to the conversation, but he couldn’t help but stop outside the room to listen.

“I just don’t know. Maybe we should tell him,” his mother was saying.

“No, not yet. I don’t want him to worry: It’d ruin the whole day,” his father disputed.

“I agree. It’s just a little while longer to wait. He has a big day ahead of him, that’s where his mind should be right now,” John reasoned. “Let’s give it some more time and just make the day about Derek. It’s what Stiles would want us to do.”

There seemed to be a consensus among them, but Derek’s stomach did an uneasy flip. Tell him what? What would ruin his whole day to hear? What did Stiles have to do with it? Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. He couldn’t think of the possibilities, couldn’t bear to. He didn’t want to know, and yet he had to.

He was just about to step into the kitchen and speak when the front door of his house opened and Scott let himself in.

“Oh, hey, Derek,” he called warily upon seeing him standing just outside the kitchen entrance.

He came up to Derek and put a hand on his back, walking past him and into the kitchen. Derek followed numbly, only to see the wide eyes and straightened spines of the three parents in the room. John and Derek’s mother were sitting at the kitchen table while Derek’s father was leaning with his back against the kitchen sink. They were all looking at Derek, assessing him with caution.

“How are you feeling this morning, champ? Successful?” his father asked with a smirk, though his voice sounded a bit stressed.

Derek shrugged, trying to keep his tone even. “I don’t know if I’d go that far.”

“Well, you should. You’ve done so well, son, and we’re proud of you,” his mother said from the table, stirring her tea.

“Yeah. Not everyone can graduate from medical school in one piece,” Scott added in a friendly tone as he walked to the fridge and grabbed himself a bottle of water.

“Yeah, Stiles is proud of you, too,” John said. “The last time I talked to him, that’s what he told me.”

He’d said it with the look on his face that meant it was really _him_ who was proud of Derek, but that he felt the need to use Stiles as a proxy for his emotions. He still did that sometimes.

“Thanks,” Derek nodded before softly adding, “I just wish he could be here.”

The room fell quiet at this admission, and Derek couldn’t even be bothered to feel embarrassed by it, the worry in his heart still too strong.

“Yeah, knowing him he probably would’ve woken you up by blasting “We Are the Champions” or something,” Scott laughed fondly, smiling to himself at the thought.

“I’m sorry we didn’t think to do that in his place,” his mother said quietly, still stirring her tea. Forcing herself to focus very intently on whatever she was doing was the only nervous habit Derek ever knew her to have.

“It’s fine. You know I don’t like over-the-top celebrations anyway.” Derek’s eyes prickled, and he couldn’t waste any more time with small talk. “So have you heard anything? Made any calls yet?”

“I made some calls a few hours ago,” Derek’s father said with a sigh. “But I kept getting the run-around. I was on hold for twenty minutes before someone finally picked up just to tell me that, because I’m not family, I couldn’t be given any information regarding Stiles.”

His father was half hanging his head, as if ashamed that he failed Derek. Derek didn’t blame his father obviously, but he _was_ angry that someone – some random person – could accuse his father of not being Stiles’ family. The Stilinskis and Hales were more of a family to each other than most people were with their real blood relatives. Derek knew Stiles thought of his father as a second dad, thought of his mother as a second mom, and it must have hurt to be told otherwise by someone who didn’t know better.

Derek nodded and took a deep breath to stave off the frustration. He turned his attention to John, knowing this wasn’t the full story.

John cleared his throat. “I wish I could say I had better luck. I even used some of my connections from my old Army days, but ultimately the people here on U.S. soil don’t have the whole picture yet, and they don’t want to give out any inaccurate information.” Scott came to sit down next to John at the table and John took a sip of the coffee in front of him. “What they could tell me was that the casualty count is still zero, so that’s good.”

Derek squeezed his eyes shut for a moment and inhaled quickly. _No deaths is a good thing_ , he told himself. It meant that he could still say with some semblance of certainty that his boyfriend was still alive.

But that wasn’t enough.

Because “alive” didn’t mean the same thing as “okay,” and that’s all Derek wanted to hear. He just wanted to know that Stiles was okay. How hard could it be for them to call Camp Patriot, ask about one soldier’s whereabouts, and then give his family a call to let them know what condition he was in? Derek wanted to simultaneously punch a wall and cry while in the fetal position.

His heart had never felt so heavy. If he thought he understood what it was to worry before, then he just got a rude awakening to its true depth. He wasn’t particularly religious, but he was struck with the sudden thought of going to a church and praying, just in case it might help.

Derek pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes and rubbed at them for a moment, trying to clear his head. His father came up from leaning against the counter and placed a hand on Derek’s shoulder to comfort him.

“Is this what you thought would ruin my day to hear?” Derek asked, pulling his hands away from his eyes. He couldn’t stop himself.

His parents glanced at one another guiltily, and Derek knew he’d caught them. He just didn’t know what he caught them _in_ exactly.

“What?” Derek pressed. “There’s more?”

John sighed and folded his hands on the table in front of him. “Derek . . . Stiles was supposed to come home.”

Derek blanked. John and his parents were fixing him with a look, trying to gauge his reaction, but Derek didn’t understand. At least Scott looked just as confused as Derek felt.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he finally admitted.

“A couple of weeks ago, when we had Stiles on the phone,” John continued, “he told me that he had managed to get leave from his deployment. I don’t know how, but he said he did, and that he was planning on coming back home to surprise you.”

Derek furrowed his brow.  Stiles was coming home? He had actually gotten leave to come home? But then  . . . “Where is he?”

John looked down at the table. “He was supposed to arrive yesterday, during the barbecue.”

It hit Derek all at once. John calling Derek’s mother the morning of the barbecue, his parents wanting some alone time to speak with John after they’d arrived at his house, the way John kept looking at his phone and watch with concern. He had been waiting for Stiles, wondering where he was and why he hadn’t shown up yet. Which meant that Stiles didn’t call to tell him he couldn’t make it. Stiles was supposed to come waltzing through the door yesterday in some grand gesture and he never showed up.

Derek could feel the panic rising in his throat, feel his chest constricting painfully. His heart seized, and he leaned forward and clutched at the countertop, his knuckles turning white with how hard he was squeezing the edge.

“Oh my God.” Derek breathed out. “Is Stiles dead?”

“No! Derek, don’t be ridiculous, of course he’s not dead!” His mother jumped up from the table and rushed to Derek’s side.

“I don’t understand,” Scott said as Talia rubbed her son’s back soothingly. “If Stiles was supposed to show up yesterday, why didn’t he?”

“It could have been any number of things that prevented Stiles from coming home,” Derek’s father reassured.

“Most likely, they wanted to stop a security breach, so they prohibited phone calls until the matter got cleared up,” John confirmed. “The military is really uptight about that. Honestly, it should be nothing to worry about.”

Derek’s eyes were already watering slightly from the sheer panic alone, so he rubbed at them a moment and tried to breathe through the stress still passing through him. It took him several long moments until he felt composed enough to speak.

“Alright. So, what’s the plan? We call every hour until someone finally cracks and tells us what we want to know? Do we have to drive out somewhere to speak with someone in person?” Derek asked, pulling his hands away and looking to his parents for answers.

“What we do,” his mother squeezed his shoulders, “is get you ready to walk in your graduation, which starts in two hours.”

Derek turned his head and stared at her dumbly.

He heard that wrong. He knew he did. “What?”

“Your graduation, Derek. You worked so hard for years and you’ve earned a day where you’re recognized for all you’ve accomplished. So you need to go,” she stated gently.

“Wha–” Derek began. “I-I don’t – Dad, what is she saying?” Derek turned to his father in confusion.

“Derek, I think your mother may be right about this.” His father said.

What was happening?

“No,” Derek said. “No, I can’t go to my graduation. Not when Stiles is missing!”

What were his parents talking about? What were they thinking? Derek didn’t want to think about his graduation. It didn’t matter to him.

“He’s not missing, Derek. He’s still at Camp Patriot, he’s just not available to talk to at the moment,” John said with a placating tone.

Derek turned on him. “Do you agree with this? You think we should just forget about Stiles for a day? Go on like nothing’s happened?”

“I agree with Derek on this one,” Scott interjected before John could answer. “I think we should spend the day trying to find out what happened.”

Never was Derek gladder for Scott’s company than in that moment.

“I know that you both are worried. We are, too. But no one is going to tell us anything yet. They made that very clear,” His mother said, grabbing her cup of still half-full tea from the table and placing it in the sink.

“I called in favors and gave everyone I talked to my number and Eric’s and told them to call either one of us if any information broke,” John said. “Until then, we won’t hear anything.”

“All we can do right now is wait and waiting drives you crazy, Derek. In the meantime, you need something to focus on, to distract you even if just for a few hours,” his mother continued, looking Derek straight in the eye.

“I can’t,” Derek said.

They just didn’t understand, and he didn’t know how to properly explain it to them. He couldn’t possibly go to his graduation now. He couldn’t go somewhere full of people and make casual conversation, pretend to smile, pretend to care, pretend that any of it mattered when the man he loved more than the air he breathed could be hurt somewhere on the other side of the globe.

“Stiles wouldn’t forgive you if you didn’t go,” his mother argued. “He would hate the very idea of you skipping any part of your life, let alone something this big, because of him. And you know that.”

“That’s a cheap shot,” Scott muttered and John elbowed him.

“But true,” John said.

Despite the emotional turmoil happening inside of him, even Derek knew what his mother said to be true. He knew she was right, she always was. Whenever Derek had to skip a class or had declined to go to an outing with friends so he could be available for Stiles’ phone calls, Stiles had never failed to sound guilty for it. He always considered that as taking away from Derek’s life experiences, and he would tell Derek time and time again that he never wanted to be the cause of Derek missing out.

Derek had always reassured him that there was no place he’d rather be, no life experience he would rather have than one that involved Stiles. Stiles knew that, and if the roles were reversed, he would feel the same. Still, he couldn’t help but think of himself as depriving Derek of his life, and he hated the way those thoughts plagued him.

Derek sighed. His mother had found the one argument that would convince him, and she knew it. Stiles’ happiness meant more to Derek than anything, and when he came back – _when_ he came back– he would feel so disappointed and guilty for being the reason Derek didn’t go to his graduation.

So be it.

Derek would go, and he would be able to tell Stiles all about it the next time he came home. It didn’t mean that he still didn’t want to punch a wall, to argue until his lungs collapsed, but he knew he’d end up going, and he was already so emotionally exhausted, so he decided to bite the bullet early.

“I still say it’s a stupid idea,” Scott grumbled, but took a drink from his water without further comment.

Derek huffed another sigh in agreement and left the room, going back upstairs. If he was going to this godforsaken event, he needed to change into a suit.


	4. Chapter 4

Derek looked around the rather large auditorium where the ceremony was taking place. He still wasn’t happy that he was here, but resigned himself to a few hours of miserable pleasantries until he could finally go home and continue his worry in solitude.

For the most part, it seemed like his sisters agreed with him about this whole fiasco. When their mother told them that they would still be attending Derek’s graduation, they had made a fuss – which gave Derek a small comfort – but ultimately, their mother won out as usual.

And that was the thing, wasn’t it? His mother was always right. Derek thought about that, remembered a time when he and Stiles had only just met back at Myrtle Beach. “Be careful,” his mom had said to him. She told him that what Stiles did was dangerous, warned Derek of the pain he would suffer if something ever happened to Stiles. She didn’t know just how right she’d been.

“So, no Scott today?” Isaac asked innocently, clearly trying to take the tense family’s mind off of things.

“No, Allison called him and then he said he had to go home,” Laura answered.

“It’s probably for the better; this place is going to be crowded. I can’t believe there’s still people coming in,” Derek’s father remarked.

“Your father’s right. Sweetheart, you should probably head over to where the graduates are sitting,” his mother suggested.

Derek nodded absent-mindedly. “Yeah. I’ll see you guys later.”

Walking through the crowd, he was looking for his place in a row of chairs when a hand gently landed on his shoulder.

“Hey, Derek,” a voice spoke up from behind him.

He turned around to see his roommate giving him a small grin. “Hey, Boyd.”

“You okay?” Boyd made a face, which, for him, meant that his eyebrows twitched.

Derek wasn’t. Not by a long shot. But Boyd was a good man and an even better roommate and he didn’t deserve to be weighed down by Derek’s problems.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just tired.”

Boyd nodded. “Well, I think they’re about to start. Go find your place and try not to fall asleep on anyone. Oh, and Derek, congrats.”

“You, too, Boyd,” Derek grinned as genuinely as he could, stepping back and heading toward where he would be sitting.

It was a full hour later when the names were finally being called. Thankfully, Derek didn’t have to wait too long because his name was toward the beginning of the alphabet, but that did mean he had longer to wait until the end. When they got around to calling his name, he heard his family’s cheers from the seats above him. He tried to look for them, give them a small smile for their efforts, but they had a big graduating class, and the crowd of family and friends was too big for him to spot his own.

He didn’t want to dwell as he sat back down in his seat. He didn’t want to make it look like he was in as much pain as he was, so he tried to school his expression as best he could and applaud loudly whenever someone he considered a friend was called up to get their diploma.

It lasted a very tedious forty-five minutes.

When it was all said and done and everyone was being dismissed, Derek was sure to find Boyd one more time and give him a hug. He congratulated him and told him that he was happy to have had him as a roommate these past few years and that they should stay in touch. Boyd promised him that they would, and Derek was grateful for it. Of everyone Derek had met during his time at school, Boyd was probably his favorite.

He made his way through the crowds. Even with his height advantage, trying to see his family over the tops of so many people’s heads wasn’t easy. He looked left to right, coming up empty. He was about to give up, pull out his phone to call his dad, when he looked to his far right and spotted the taller forms of his father and Isaac in the crowd.

He started to slowly push through to them, and only when he was a few, long strides away did his eyes finally notice an additional person standing next to John and Cora.

A person wearing a dimpled smile from ear to ear.

A person with bright, whiskey eyes.

A person wearing Army-issued camo.

Derek sprinted.

He couldn’t feel his legs, doesn’t know how he managed to make it those few, long strides, but nothing was about to get in his way as his arms wrapped around a rare yet familiar form, knocking him back several steps as he crashed into him.

“Hey, Derek,” Stiles whispered happily into Derek’s ear, tightening his arms around Derek’s neck. “Congratulations, babe.”

Derek’s chest rocked with a sob, and he made some kind of noise that he was sure wasn’t in any way coherent. His vision swam and his eyes felt heavy with the unshed tears clouding his sight, but he couldn’t blink. He didn’t dare, too afraid that the moment he shut his eyes this beautiful dream would break, and he would once again be thrust into harsh reality, one where he didn’t know if Stiles was alive or dead. He clutched Stiles to him tighter, fingers digging in so hard that it must have been painful, but Stiles didn’t complain. He understood.

Derek’s knees gave out and he sank to the floor, bringing Stiles down with him. Derek heard some people clapping around him, heard what sounded like his sisters crying from next to him, heard his father say, “Look who found us right before the ceremony started,” but he didn’t even consider paying any of that attention. Instead, he pulled back from his crushing grip on Stiles, moving so he could see his face.

Stiles’ hair was longer, and he was definitely tanner than the last time Derek saw him – with lines that showed how often Stiles had worn sunglasses and a line around his wrist where he wore his watch – but he looked alright. He looked _safe_ and Derek couldn’t help himself, ran his hand across Stiles’ face from his forehead to his neck. He let his thumb drag across Stiles’ cheek, pushed his nose into Stiles’ hair and inhaled the familiar scent that he missed so much.

Stiles just smiled at him, pushed his face into Derek’s palm and kissed his neck when Derek leaned in to smell his hair. Derek picked up on that cue, remembering he had a mouth and began using it, kissing Stiles everywhere he could reach him. He kissed along his face, down his neck, across his uniform-covered shoulders, and finally locking their lips together.

Stiles kissed him back, gripping Derek’s shoulders and holding him close. Derek had closed his eyes while kissing Stiles, but, when he pulled back and opened them again, Stiles was still right there, smiling up at Derek like he was the best damn thing he’d ever seen in his life.

“So can I assume that you’re happy to see me?” Stiles said, reaching up and brushing his fingers under Derek’s eyes. Derek hadn’t noticed when the tears had started falling, but Stiles had some in his eyes, too, so he couldn’t find it in him to care.

“It’s you,” was all Derek could manage, unable to comprehend anything other than the fact that this was really Stiles, here, in his arms when only an hour ago – hell, only a few _minutes_ ago – Derek was thinking the worst.

Stiles laughed, and Derek let out a happy breath of relief at the sound. “Of course it’s me. You didn’t honestly think I’d miss seeing you graduate did you? I’ve been bragging to my unit for months about how my genius boyfriend was graduating from medical school.”

Stiles rubbed at his eyes as the first of the tears began to fall, and Derek leaned in to kiss his cheek.

“I was so scared,” Derek breathed into Stiles’ skin.

Stiles placed his hands so that they were cupping the back of Derek’s head. “I know, I’m so sorry. Dad and Eric and Talia were telling me. It’s a long story,” Stiles sighed, looking at Derek and running a hand through his hair.

“I thought –” Derek began, wrapping tight arms around Stiles’ waist and pulling him in even closer. He was aware that they were still on the floor, but he dared anyone to try and move them right now.

Stiles leaned his forehead against Derek’s. “You don’t ever need to think that again. Ok? I’m back, and, Derek, I’m staying back.”

Derek pulled back, furrowing his brow. “What?” Could Stiles be saying what Derek thought he just said?

Stiles smiled. “I’m staying back, Derek. My deployment’s over. I don’t have to go back to Kuwait. I don’t have to go back overseas, not for a long while –”

Derek kissed him. Hard. Relief flooded through his heart like he had never felt before, and, after the pain and worry the last day had brought him, he wasn’t sure such a happiness could exist anymore. He was wrong, because Derek had never been happier than in that moment; never felt such love for another human being than he did for Stiles.

“I don’t understand,” John said from somewhere to their left. “Stiles, I thought you said you were getting leave from deployment to come here?”

Stiles never once looked away from Derek’s face as he sheepishly answered his father. “Yeah, sorry about that, Dad. I wanted to surprise you with good news, too. It ended up backfiring. Typical.” Stiles rolled his eyes and grinned. Derek smiled.

“So your deployment’s really over?” John asked in disbelief.

Stiles nodded. “Yeah, and I should have been back yesterday. My unit came back from Kuwait in two separate groups. My group had already left when there was a security breach at Camp Patriot, which delayed our second group from coming home, which in turn delayed our debriefings and we couldn’t leave until those were over.”

“You had already left when the attack happened? That was five days ago,” Laura said.

“Attack?” Stiles turned away from Derek for the first time to glance at Laura with a furrowed brow. “Is that what the media is calling it? I guess that figures. It really wasn’t anything big, a guy managed to sneak a gun into the base, but they stopped him before he did any harm. After that, though, they didn’t want anyone to have any outside contact until everything was figured out,” Stiles explained.

Derek nodded. John had been right, it was just precaution that kept Stiles from contacting them. Everything had been fine. Stiles had been back in the country, safe and sound, by the time the whole mess had even occurred. Derek took a huge sigh of relief and leaned his head against Stiles’ shoulder.

“How long do I get you for?”

He had to ask, because he knew how this worked. Stiles got to come home, but it wouldn’t be forever. Eventually, he would have to go back and leave Derek once again. He braced himself, preparing to hear a small number that would break his heart if he thought about it too much, but he’d be grateful for any number of days with Stiles, no matter how few. He missed him so damn much.

Stiles put his hand on Derek’s head, signaling that he wanted Derek to look at him. Derek complied, pulling back just far enough to stare at Stiles' eyes, those beautiful eyes.

Stiles smiled, bright and happy. “Thirty days,” he answered.

Derek blinked. “ _Thirty_?”

“It’s a block leave,” Stiles explained, still smiling widely. “Since we just came back from deployment, my entire unit gets thirty days of leave. And when I go back, I go back to Texas. I go back to Fort Sam Houston. I’m back, baby.”

Derek’s eyes were filling with tears again. Life couldn’t be sweeter than it was in this moment. He pulled Stiles to him once again, squeezing him as close as he could get.

“I love you,” Derek whispered.

“I love you, Derek,” Stiles replied, getting emotional himself. “I love you so much.”


	5. Chapter 5

“Ok, what about this one?” Stiles asked, hours later.

Once they had finally collected themselves enough to get up off the floor and leave, both families had gone out to eat and talk properly. Afterwards, Derek and Stiles had opted to go back to Derek’s apartment at school rather than either one of the family homes. Given that the two of them had tired themselves out wrapped up in one another, chasing every desire they’d held back for the past fourteen months Stiles had been overseas, it was a good decision on their part.

Stiles was sitting on his side of Derek’s bed, wearing nothing but his boxers with Derek’s laptop on the sheets in front of him. Derek came back to the bed, handing Stiles the bottle of water he’d gone to retrieve while a frozen pizza heated up in the oven. He crawled onto the bed, kissing Stiles’ shoulder when he leaned over to look at the computer screen.

“That one’s not bad,” Derek said automatically. Getting a better look, he added, “Actually that one’s really nice. Pretty even.”

“I know, right? Realtor.com, who wouldda thunk? Thank you, Elizabeth Banks,” Stiles said, his eyes locked on the pictures of the craftsman house before them. “It’s got three bedrooms, a backyard for Wolfy – and yes, Derek, he has to be a Husky – and it’s almost directly between my family house and yours, so no one can complain that we’re picking sides.”

“ _And_ , I’m happy to note, this one’s in our price range,” Derek quipped, smirking when Stiles groaned.

“Ok, that was _one_ time, and it wasn’t even that much over,” Stiles whined.

“$30,000 isn’t that much over?” Derek raised a brow. “Oh, I’m sorry, do you have that underneath a mattress somewhere? Because I’m going to be paying off student loan debts for the next thousand years,” he laughed.

“That, and the fact I haven’t even gone to college, means that the loan our parents agreed to give us is going to help so much,” Stiles agreed with an exaggerated nod.

Derek hummed. “So did you want to make a call and we’ll see if we can get a tour of the house tomorrow?” Derek asked, leaning closer to the screen so he could see the address.

“Yeah, if they can fit us in, that’d be great. Maybe if nobody can give us a formal tour we can just drive out and see it for ourselves,” Stiles suggested.

“Stiles,” Derek said, suspicion clear in this voice.

“Yes, my love?” Stiles asked with innocence, too busy clicking through more photos of the property to pay much attention.

“This neighborhood is known for its great schools,” Derek pointed out, turning his head to fix Stiles with a look.

“Uh-huh,” Stiles confirmed, still barely registering what Derek was implying.

“. . . Which is something you and I will no longer need unless you were planning on returning to the third grade,” Derek finished, letting his suspicions be known and waiting for Stiles’ reaction.

Stiles’ head popped up at that, and despite his tan the blush still spread rather quickly down from his cheeks to his neck. “Umm . . .”

“Stiles,” Derek cautioned, seeing Stiles trying – and failing – to think of a cover story.

“I mean. . .” Stiles sighed. “I know it’s too soon. Of course I know that because I’m only twenty-one and still in the Army, but you’re twenty-five now and I know we’ve never had, like, a _serious_ discussion about this but it’s something we did both say we wanted and I’m not trying to freak you out or pressure you and if that’s what it seems like I’m doing then just go ahead and stop me,” Stiles rambled.

He sneaked a glance at Derek’s face and saw from his expression that the wheels in his head were turning.

“You know what, it’s ok,” Stiles continued. “We’ll just cross this one off the list, don’t even worry about it. I promise I wasn’t trying to be pushy, I was just trying to be proactive and thinking about all of our future . . . whatevers.”

Stiles grew quiet, waiting for Derek’s response. Derek’s hand came up and rested gently across the hair at the nape of Stiles’ neck.

“All of our future whatevers, huh?” Derek repeated with a teasing smile.

“Oh, shut up,” Stiles said, blushing more deeply and refusing to meet Derek’s eye.

Derek moved the laptop out of the way before pushing Stiles down to lay flat on his back, collapsing on top of him and effectively pinning him to the mattress.

“Stiles,” Derek started, but Stiles still wouldn’t look at him. Derek sighed and lifted Stiles’ chin with a gentle finger until Stiles’ gaze flickered up. Derek smiled down at him softly, leaning in to kiss him as sweetly as he knew how. Based on the content sigh he received from Stiles as he pulled away, he could tell his message had gotten through.

“Not that I don’t love your forward-thinking, but maybe we should talk about our wedding first? Before we start talking about children?” Derek said.

“Oh, no. Nope. I can’t talk to you about this, we’ll jinx it,” Stiles said firmly.

“Jinx it?” Derek deadpanned, raising a dubious brow at him. “Stiles, how many times have we talked about our wedding before?”

“Well, plenty, but those times don’t count as jinxing it because it seemed far off then. It’s not that far-off anymore and I would at least like us to be engaged before we go into any specific detail.”

Derek sighed. “Aren’t we basically engaged already?”

“No,” Stiles said, furrowing his brow in confusion.

“Stiles, I love you. I want to marry you, and I have every intention of marrying you and spending the rest of my life with you . . . And I think you feel the same way,” Derek prompted.

Stiles nodded.

“So, isn’t that basically it? We both know that we’re getting married one day, do we really need a proposal to make it official?”

“Yes!” Stiles declared stubbornly.

Derek thought for a moment, then grinned slyly. “Stiles Stilinski, will–”

“You are NOT about to propose to me in bed! No! Not happening. What would we tell our children one day when they ask how we got engaged? I want this story to be appropriate for younger generations to hear, thank you very much.”

“We’re not even doing anything,” Derek laughed. He leaned down to kiss Stiles one more time. “Alright, fine, you win.”

“Good,” Stiles smiled. “But, while we’re on the topic of marriage . . . How do you feel about coattails? ‘Cause I’ve been getting a lot of coattail feels lately.”

“I am _not_ looking like a penguin on our wedding day, Stiles. That is not happening,” Derek protested.

Stiles scrunched up his face in disappointment. “Fine. But then neither of us is wearing black. It’s not a funeral and you wear enough black on a daily basis.”

Derek snorted. “Fair enough. Gray?”

“Or navy. I could work with either,” Stiles agreed with a smile.

Derek loved that smile. He couldn’t believe he thought he would never see it again. He cupped Stiles’ cheek with his hand, running his thumb across it for what must be the hundredth time that day. He didn’t plan on stopping anytime soon, either. Stiles sighed underneath him, looking into Derek’s eyes with a contentment and love that Derek could feel radiating off of him. He lowered his head, turning it to the side and resting it on Stiles’ chest.

Facing the bedside table, he could see on it the little wolf figurine his mother had given Stiles before he went off for Advanced Individual Training. Stiles kept it with him wherever he went. Derek reached out to touch it, and he felt Stiles’ hands come up to intertwine in his hair.

“Maybe you should keep that the next time around? Something to remind you of me,” Stiles suggested gently.

“No,” Derek said immediately, pulling his hand back and turning to face Stiles. “No, Mom gave it to you to keep you safe. You’ve had it every time we’ve been apart, and you’ve always come home to me. If I were to take it, if I were to change one thing and . . . You know I’m not superstitious, but . . .” Derek trailed off for a moment, searching for the right words and unable to find them.

“Oh, Derek,” Stiles murmured, his face growing even softer than before.

Derek took a deep breath. “You need to keep it, Stiles, because I just don’t know what I’d ever do without you.”

Stiles moved his hands from the back of Derek’s head to his face, pulling him up for a kiss. When they pulled away, Stiles nuzzled his nose against Derek’s, whispering against his lips, “You’ll never have to find out.”


End file.
